


Uponoursouls

by emansil



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7005496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rook and Thom prepare to begin their journey. It just takes a bit longer than Thom had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uponoursouls

**Author's Note:**

> I only recently refound this fic, thought it was lost forever. Written in 2010 right after finishing the first of the series, the incredible Havemercy. I hope you enjoy.

The sun was much higher in the sky than they’d intended by the time the two of them left the Airman. They hadn’t meant to be this late, but as they’d both contributed to it in one way or the other, neither of them could lay blame on the other for fear of retribution for their own part. 

Rook insisted they return to retrieve his knives, although how he would have forgotten them Thom hesitated to dare a guess. 

Thom had also forgotten something very important: saying good-bye to Balfour. Well, he’d not so much forgotten to say good-bye as he was unsure how to say good-bye to Balfour. He wasn’t exactly what you’d call sure where they stood with one another. 

Thom knew where his heart lay regarding the gentle airman, but was unsure if it was reciprocated. Taking the coward's way out, he chose to leave without a final good-bye. 

Balfour, however, had different plans. 

“Have the two of you decided which direction you’ll be taking yet?” came the melodious voice that Thom would recognize anywhere. They both stopped their horses and turned their heads around. 

Balfour leaned against the outer wall of the building that had once held the Esar’s greatest weapons and their riders. Now it was just another boring and mundane building. First Balfour held his arms across his chest, but then realized that made his mechanical hands too noticeable in contrast with the rest of him, slim as he was. Quickly he moved his arms to hang down by his side and then moved them to behind his back. 

Rook stood by Thom’s side, smirking as he was wont to do. When Thom remained silent, he snarked, “Aren’t you going to answer him?” 

Thom shook himself, coming out of the daze he’d entered upon seeing Balfour’s dark hair turn to burnished copper in the sun. “Oh, yes, of course,” but still he said nothing more. Balfour’s eyes were on his, as much as his were on Balfour’s. 

Rook snorted. “Oh, for Bastion’s fuck's sake. Look, I’ll just start heading down the road, slow like, while you and your girlfriend say your romantic good-byes.” With that he tentatively kicked the horse’s side and took a death grip of the reins. 

Thom and Balfour watched with bemusement as Rook, the greatest and bravest of all the riders plodded along like some old lady on an oven older nag. Thom placed the picture in his memory. For two reasons, one to ask Rook about it, and two, to bring out as something to laugh over, internally of course, whenever Rook started acting – well – more Rook-like. 

The touch of metal on his leg caused him to turn toward Balfour. Thom wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the feeling. He slid down off the horse and stood in front of Balfour. There was so much he wanted to say, but wasn’t sure how to start. He feared that once he started, he’d be unable to stop, unable to hold his tongue. 

Balfour waited. There was no journey waiting for him, no long lost brother to rediscover on a long journey. Thom felt himself flush scarlet and then relaxed, grateful he’d not said that out loud. Balfour’s brother was no more, and Thom was sure Balfour would have given anything he had, including his metallic hands, to have him back. 

“We’re going to see the hanging gardens of Eeklesias. I told you that.” 

“Yes, but which direction are you taking to get there? North than west or west then north, or are you splitting the difference and heading northwest?” 

“Oh,” Thom nodded. “We decided West would be the best direction to travel. Rook wants to get as far away from the Cobalt’s as is possible.” 

“Are you sure that’s wise?” 

Thom shrugged. “It’s the way Rook chose, and I’ve no reason to go against his wishes. I think he’s afraid if we should come across any wandering Ke-han on the road he might create difficulties for the current diplomatic mission by murdering them with his bare hands.” 

Balfour smiled wistfully. “I wouldn’t mind partaking of that activity myself. I wonder if my new appendages have any magical powers of their own. The thought of wrapping them around one of their Ke-han Bastion necks and squeezing until their eyeballs bulge out of their sockets gives me great pleasure.” There was a bitterness not previously found in the clear tone of his voice. 

The two of them stood without speaking, each of them thinking of the past that was gone and of a future so different than any they could ever have imagined, and of brothers lost and brothers found. 

“Will you write to me?” Balfour asked as he moved to stand directly in front of Thom, his dark blue eyes searching Thom’s. 

“Of course I will, but…” Thom stopped and looked at Balfour’s hands. “Will you be able to write?” 

“I shall have to train myself all over again. I learned to write with the hands given to me at birth, I’m sure I can learn to write with these. It may be difficult, but it is necessary.” 

Thom nodded. As much as he wanted to stay and talk with Balfour, he knew Rook would by now be some distance away. 

Balfour lifted his hands and then placed him back by his side, as if unsure what to do with them. 

“Look, Balfour, I’m sorry, I need to go. Even as slow as Rook was on that horse, he’s sure to have made some significant progress by now.” 

With one hand on the pommel and one foot in the stirrup he was unexpectedly pulled away from the horse. He found himself twirled around and then the cool of metal was gripping both sides of his face and warm lips pressed against his own. Surprised, Thom’s lips opened slightly and the tip of Balfour’s tongue, soft and velvety, slipped inside. It was only for a moment, but it was enough. 

No, that was wrong, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Thom’s heart broke when Balfour said, “Don’t forget me.” As if Thom ever could. Balfour reached out and tucked a small slip of parchment in Thom’s pocket. Thom looked at it perplexed. 

“It’s my address at home. I’m returning there next week.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know.” 

“With you gone, there’s nothing keeping me here. Besides, my mother did not get enough spoiling and hovering time when I was home recuperating. After Emery and then this,” he held out his hands, gloveless, a sight Thom could never get used to, “I’m surprised she let me out of her sight.” 

The distant look came into his eyes. The look Thom had grown to see in Rook’s and each and every one of the remaining airmen. A look that said: there was a part of them now missing, a part that left more of a hole than missing hands, a part that would always be missing, no matter how long or how far they’d look for a replacement. 

“Now, I’ll return home to try and… live.” 

 

*** 

 

Rook wasn’t nearly as far from them as should have been expected. When Thom came riding up next to him from a quick canter, Rook spun around and then whipped back to the front. His back was stiff and covered in sweat. It was warm, but not that warm. Thom cast a more observant look at his brother. He’d never seen him so tense. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, hesitantly and making sure he was somewhat behind, to the side, and a distance from Rook. Rook’s knife throwing skills were not to be taken lightly. 

Indeed, Thom could see one of Rook’s hands fly into the interior of his shirt, where everyone knew he kept his knives. The fact that one hand remained on the pommel at all times did not escape Thom’s vision. 

“Bastion! ” Rook cursed. “I’ve fucking gone off and forgotten my bloody knives.” He turned and glared at Thom, as if this was somehow his responsibility. 

“Umm,” Thom said wondering where all his years of ‘Versity training had flown away to. 

“Umm?” Rook sneered. “Wow, that’s pretty hard core stuff coming from a ‘Versity student. Sure wish I’d had such an opportunity to learn to speak so eloquent like.” 

Not exactly sure how to mention to Rook that the whole reason they had been late leaving in the first place were Rook’s knives, Thom did nothing, choosing sense over stupidity. 

“Well, don’t just stand there! Tell me how to turn this beast around so we can go back to get them. I’d like to be out of Thremedon before the week ends.” 

Confused, Thom said, “You don’t know how to turn a horse?” 

“How would I? I’ve never been on a bloody horse, now have I?” 

“But… I mean….you… surely…” 

“Your articulating skills are, once again, leaving me speechless. I’m not sure I can stand much more of this. Damn near gonna give me an inferiority complex, if you don’t stop showing off,” Rook said, his blue eyes shooting the daggers at Thom his hands were unable to. 

“I’m a Mollyrat. When exactly do you think I had the opportunity to ride a horse? Sure, I got to muck their shit out of the stables, but was never good enough to actually put one under me. No, my two feet and two good strong legs got me wherever I needed to go just fine. And if you don’t tell me what I need to know, I’m climbing off this wretched beast and letting them serve me once again.” 

“But what about Have?” 

“DON’T YOU SAY HER NAME! Not now!” Rook roared. “Riding this four legged beast is nothing, nothing like flying with my girl. She was brilliant and we totally understood one another. Not like this animated piece of farm equipment which has the intelligence of…” 

Rook’s eyes, which had been looking suspiciously wet, suddenly cleared. “Now I understand why you and your horse have formed such a bond. You are each other’s intellectual equivalent. I just have to lower myself to your level and then me and, what did you say the name of this fine animal is again?” 

“I didn’t.” 

Rook waited as long as Rook ever waited for anything, which wasn’t very long at all. “Well, aren’t you going to tell me?” 

“His name is ‘Uponoursouls.” 

“’Uponoursouls’, as in “Lord, have mercy upon our souls,” Rook said, incredulity in every syllable he uttered. 

Thom nodded, miserable with fear of what was going to happen next. He’d been praying to an entity he wasn’t sure he believed in that Rook would never bother asking for his mount’s name. 

Then the most unbelievable thing happened. Rook threw back his head and laughed, long and loud and true. It was a sound Thom had not heard in a very long time. A sound he would never grow tired of. 

He watched as his brother somehow managed to turn Uponoursouls around and head back toward the Airman. As for the speed, Rook still wouldn’t win any races against a fast moving tortoise, but the relaxed set of his shoulders told Thom that his brother was moving towards healing. 

They retrieved Rook’s knives, Thom this time making sure they were actually where they were supposed to be, inside Rook’s shirt. As well as a Roman Thom had somehow managed to leave behind. The sun, now low in the sky as they set out once again, brightened the blue of Rook’s braids to an aquamarine. 

“Did your Cindy boyfriend slip you the tongue when you said good-bye to one another?” Rook questioned and then laughed. “Hell, I bet that’s the only tongue you’ve ever had in your mouth, besides your own.” 

Thom said nothing as he heard the soft voice of his brother talking to Uponoursouls. “Did I ever tell you the time Have and I were too late to have cake with the emperor? Let me know if you’ve heard this before.” 

Yes, Rook was definitely on the mend.


End file.
